


goodbye until tomorrow

by carefulren



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged Up, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'll leave that up to you, Prompt Fill, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt, in which the loser's club are the best of friends, or more for some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 12:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: It's been over three years, and yet...(the one where Bill has trouble staying home sick after what happened last time, and his friends take matters into their own hands)





	goodbye until tomorrow

The 102.2 degree reading blinking back at Bill has his lips pressing into a firm line, corners creeping down into the beginning of a frown as his eyes dart toward his unmade bed. 

It’s been over three years since he stayed in sick while Georgie… 

No. He shakes his head and places the glass thermometer into a desk drawer, keeping it hidden from his parents’ prying eyes. He’ll go to school; he can manage- he has to manage. Otherwise, something could happen to one of his friends in his absence. 

He spares a glance toward his wall clock, noting with a brief flick of panic that he’s only got a few minutes to get ready. A deep breath in results in crackling lungs and a barking cough, but he pushes through it, coughing into his fist as he makes his way to his dresser to quickly toss some clothes on for school. 

*****

Richie’s long legs make navigating around students easy. He’s quick and able to slide past groups as he darts toward his first class that he’s lucky enough to share with some of his friends. 

His eyes are wide, panicked, as he whips into the classroom, making a beeline toward Stan and Eddie’s desks as he sucks in a deep breath. 

“Richie, what-” 

“Bill’s sick!” Richie starts, slamming both hands down on Eddie’s desk. “Like, really sick! He looked like fucking death at his locker. Imagine if sick were a person, all pale and shaky and coughing every two seconds, and you’ve got Bill!” 

Stan turns in his desk to fully face Richie with a deep frown, worry coating his vision as he takes in every of Richie’s slurred, frantic words, and Eddie shoots a quick glance toward the doorway before dragging a slow, heavy gaze back toward Richie. 

“Define ‘really sick.’ Are we talking freshman year sinus infection sick or sophomore year hospitalized pneumonia sick-”

A harsh cough echoing from the doorway closes Eddie’s question, and all three grow tense as they slowly turn toward the painful sound. 

“See for yourself,” Richie whispers into Eddie’s ear as Bill staggers toward them. 

“Hey, Bill,” Stan starts, keeping his voice cool despite the concern biting at the edges. “Are you feeling alright?” 

Bill shrugs with a slight sniffle as he slides into his seat beside Stan. “J-just a cold,” he croaks out, wincing faintly at the gravelly heat that coats the back of his throat with each word. 

Before Stan can press further, their history teacher walks in with a sharp “shut up,” prompting the class to fall silent. 

While everyone else flips in their history books to the correct page for today’s lesson, Eddie scribbles frantically on a corner of a loose paper before reaching over to slip the note on Richie’s desk. 

Richie scans the note, rolling his eyes at the words. 

_“That is not a fucking cold. It’s the fucking plague.”_

Richie moves his pencil over the small slip of paper before passing it back to Eddie, who reads the short response with a sharp frown. 

_“Don’t be a dick.”_

*****

“Why is PE a thing?” Richie asks as he dribbles a basketball in the corner of the gym with Eddie. “What if I don’t want to be physically active? I feel like this is hindering my artistic gift! I could be a painter! Or a musician! I’m not an athlete!”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Eddie spits out as his fingers crumple around the note Stan gave him right before class. “Bill’s worse,” he adds, concern creeping through his hushed voice. 

“Shit,” Richie breathes out as he drags his gaze toward the gym’s exit that leads back into the hallway. “They’re in study hall, right? Think we can sneak out?” 

Eddie glances toward their gym teacher before pulling a slow gaze toward the rhythmic dribbling of the basketball Richie has. “I’ve got an idea.” 

*****

“What the hell happened to you?” Stan asks along a harsh whisper as he takes in the ice pack Richie has pressed to his nose. 

“Had to get out of PE somehow,” Richie mutters with a shrug as Eddie waves a dismissive hand. 

“It’s not broken. I didn’t put a lot of force behind the basketball.” 

Stan’s pupils blow out as he shakes his head. “Why didn’t you just fake sick?” 

“We’ve done it too many times,” Richie says as Eddie bypasses Stan to get to Bill, who’s seated at a small table in the back of the library. 

As Eddie can see, Bill’s sporting Stan’s hoodie, and he’s got his face buried in his arms resting atop the table. For a moment, Eddie thinks that Bill is sleeping, but a closer look shows the slight, occasional jerk of Bill’s shoulders. 

“Shit,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he takes the seat beside Bill while Stan and Richie take the two remaining seats. 

“Bill,” Eddie coos softly, placing a gentle hand to Bill’s back. “Can you look up for me?” 

Bill’s slow to obey, but he does, and Eddie can’t keep the sharp gasp squeezing past his lips as he takes in Bill’s flushed, tear-stricken cheeks surrounded by a ghostly complexion. 

“Fucking hell, Bill,” Richie spits out as Eddie slides a palm across Bill’s forehead. 

“Christ,” Eddie mutters as he pulls his hand back. “You’re burning up, Bill. You shouldn’t be here.” It’s as if Eddie’s words strike the wrong chord for the second his lips move around the last syllable, Bill’s hunching in on himself, hands hugging his elbows as tears spill from his eyes. 

“Bill!” 

“Way to go, Eddie. You made him fucking cry.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Both of you shut up,” Stan spits out as he places a hand to Bill’s shoulder. “Bill, what’s wrong? Are you feeling that bad?” 

“It’s…. I c-can’t… I have t-to stay in school.” 

“Why?” Eddie questions with a slight tilt of his head. “You’re really sick, Bill. You’ve probably got that flu going around.” 

“S-something might h-happen,” Bill rasps out around a strangled cry. “L-last time. G-Georgie…” 

“Oh, hell, Bill,” Richie mutters as he slides out of his chair and moves behind Bill to drape over the crying boy in a smothering hug. “You can take a sick day. Nothing’s going to happen to us.” 

“You’re going to catch this,” Eddie keeps his voice quiet as he locks eyes with Richie. 

“We’ll all get it probably,” Richie replies dismissively as he tightens his arms around Bill’s trembling form. 

“Would it help if we go home with you?” Stan asks, and Bill shoots a blurry gaze toward Stan. 

“Y-you guys w-would?” 

“Fuck yeah we would,” Richie says, stepping over to the side to catch Bill’s eyes. “We’ve got you, Bill.” 

Bill lets out a shaky breath that darts across a cough as he pulls a slow gaze toward Eddie. Their eyes meet for an endless moment before Eddie gets to his feet with a soft sigh. 

“Someone has to take care of you.” He says, clapping a hand to Bill’s shoulder. 

Bill blinks through clinging tears as he coughs into his fist. 

“T-thanks, guys.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it!


End file.
